Michael D. Davis.

It is currently 5:09 pm June 4, 2024, Tuesday, Primary Election night, and this has been the last hour of my life.

An hour ago, I contacted my sister, who was about to get off work, to get me some chicken from the gas station on her way home. While on the phone with my sister, my Ma sits a few feet away in the living room struggling with a decision.

Ya see, my ma, who currently has arguably the shortest hair in the house, has been attempting to get it cut because when the first hair starts to curl around her ear, everything goes to hell. However, the wonderful lady that usually cuts the family’s hair lives out in the toolies, and with recent flooding, most roads out near her are non-existent.

It is currently at this point while I am on the phone with my sister, essentially ordering my chicken, the old one pops his head in the door. My father’s opinion on my ma’s quandary is that she should go, more or less, several miles in the opposite direction, and come around from a different angle.

Although this around the county in 80 minutes solution is creative, my ma didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Also, to put another crabapple on this pie, it has been thundering and raining all day, and my ma had seen on Facebook, or somewhere that there was a funnel cloud over Grinnell. Not the usual one to worry about the weather, but these factors rattled my ma, so she canceled the appointment.

At just about 4:30, my sister came home with some chicken, and mini M&M’s in the tube for herself. The day prior, it had been decided that my sister would go to Marshalltown, run errands, get supper, all while my ma was getting her haircut today. My ma informed my sister that she had canceled the hair appointment, and said that she didn’t think that she should go to Marshalltown either, and everyone should just stay home, once supper was figured out that is. My sister didn’t agree. My sister pays weather no mind: a tornado could be ripping down the street and my sister would say it’s fine, then drive to the store.

After a few minutes of talking, it was now decided that both my sister and my ma were going to Marshalltown. How we got here from my ma declaring that no one was going anywhere, I don’t know. But then, just as fast and easily as this decision had been made it was reversed, and again no one was to go anywhere. My ma was then taking ideas of what to do about supper.

All this time, I am sitting silently, observing, while I eat my chicken.

My sister takes this moment to say that she still thinks she should go to Marshalltown, and somehow it came up that ma could get her hair trimmed at one of the places up there. Just enough to get the wretched stuff off her earlobes.

My ma says fine and goes to get ready. When she comes back the subject is back on the weather, and a funnel cloud is brought up again, but my sister, with response ready, says that her phone says it won’t rain again till late tonight.

My ma doesn’t know what to do at this point. I am nearly done with my chicken. I was asked what I think. I said I don’t see the hurry. I was asked what I want for tomorrow’s supper. I answer, my answer is ridiculed.

My ma sits back down, she’s not sure what to do. She’s going waffling on what’s right. My sister, who has multiple college degrees, puts her eye up to the end of the mini M&M’s tube, and my ma looks at this with a face of both awe and disappointment.

The last hour has been a roller coaster of decision making. My ma seemed to go back and forth more than Marty McFly. I’m a little foggy on how precisely they arrived or justified their final decision, but I’m here writing this, and they’re on their way to Marshalltown.